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Chiaroscuro: Trepidation
Part 1 . Ruins of the Ninth Division Barracks. Night. It was a tenebrous and quiet night, with nary a gust of wind disturbing its unnerving silence. The air was dense and stifling; a thick shroud of clouds obscured the entire sky, drowning the ravaged city in nigh-impenetrable darkness. Only the immense, prism-like Kidō barrier outstretched over a portion of the Seireitei cast some light on the surroundings, however dim and faint, thus extracting some details from the vast sea of blackness. Broken walls. Collapsed roofs. Pavement dotted with craters and cracks. Corpses. Countless bodies laying motionless amongst the piles of rubble, mutilated, bifurcated, disemboweled and dismembered, broken Zanpakutō still held firm in the forever-clenched fists. Then, a single moving silhouette in the world of stillness; a mobile shadow, darker than the pitch-black surroundings and the night itself. Pacing across the abysmal battlefield, each slow and measured step completely soundless, aimless. Only the bone-white mask could be discerned from the unfathomable tar of the night's shade. Nonetheless, there seemed to be someone else lurking in the thick shadows. Away from the warming glow of the Kidō barrier, deeper within the abyss that had engulfed the city, a new light burned into existence, casting off the shadows as it danced around to an unheard rhythym. Following in the light was a Shinigami of deathly composure, adorned in armour of a sky blue complexion. His eyes traced the path of the floating light as it moved along, his feet making light, almost delicate steps in keeping pace with it. Both lingered over the corpses and rubble strewn through out the streets though only one expressed anguish at the lives that had been wasted, the other just frowned a little harder. Meanwhile, the black-clad figure halted abruptly. Gazing absent-mindedly straight ahead, the man appeared to blend with and disperse into the darkness. He stood, as motionless as the corpses beside him. Taking the light into his hand, the Shinigami squeezed it within his grasp causing it to shift. The orb disolved and its glow flowed through the flesh of the Shinigami's hand. "You know..." His eyes watched over his hand as the light dimmed and faded. "It used to be so much easier to catch prey, the mere hint of light would attract even the strongest of predators." The man spoke to the air while his surroundings plunged into the darkness that had enveloped most everything else. Zetsubō Usuguraiboshi did not even flinch. He remained perfectly still for a short time, and then slowly lifted his head to look upon the murky sky. The near-solid cover of clouds began dispersing gradually, letting the first feeble glimmers pass through and pierce the omnipresent darkness. "Can you smell it?", he asked unexpectedly, his low and raspy voice dampened by the opaque blackness around him. His eyes flitted towards the source of the sound, doing their best to pick out the silhouette of the figure before the whiteness of the mask the figure adorned made itself present. Despite coming into contact with what was likely the perpetrator of the devestation surrounding them, the Shinigami remained relaxed in posture, his hands did not dare dart for the sword tightly fastened to his side. "The rot settling into the corpses, or aught else?" He asked, curious. "Yes... The foetor of death", uttered Usuguraiboshi without directing his response anywhere in particular. "It's been accompanying me for as long as I can remember..." He moved unhurriedly, merely a disembodied white countenance, until the first rays of moonlight outlined his imposing figure. He was now facing the Shinigami, the single slit in his worn mask fixed at him with alarming intensity. "Because for as long as I can remember, my life's been intertwined with death", he continued in an ominously serene tone. And whilst he was speaking, for the first time that night another sound than human voice could be heard; a protracted, barely audible metallic hiss of a sword being slowly unsheathed. The never-ending ebony blade of Usuguraiboshi's nodachi at last escaped its scabbard, a faint glint distinguishing it from the surrounding blackness. "Because my life... is death", the black-clad figure finished and vanished the same instant. Without any warning he appeared beside the Royal Guard, his cloak fluttering violently. Moving at a speed far beyond the capability of an average Shinigami, his blade darted toward his opponent in a broad, swift slash - . There was a cluttered vibration to the wind before the black blade sweeped through, but the air was empty nonetheless. The Shinigami had moved without any prior indications of motion, he now stood in the air, just a few meters above the figure that tried to cut him down. "An antiquated tradition, but one I find no less appealing, warriors would once introduce themselves before fighting. It built a kind of rapport, knowing the name of who clashed blades with you." His voice raised from its usual calm for a moment to hint at some joy of regailing an old notion. "To that end, I would ask your name, creature." But it was also customary to offer ones own name before demanding theirs. "I am Satō Shingen of the Royal Guard." At last his blade drew from its sheath, the slight chink of metal against the interior could be heard before the rusted and broken edge of the blade was removed from its holding place. The stood calmly below, his drawn Zanpakutō being the only indication he had recently made any move. He lifted his head and looked upon his interlocutor's worn-down blade, and then fixed his gaze at its wielder. Then, there was a period utter silence. "You're different", remarked the cloaked figure at last, with a faint tone of curiosity in his menacing voice. He moved slightly, almost imperceptibly, and changed his pose, his nodachi now pointed to the side. "Names are meaningless, but I can make an exception for you. I am Zetsubō Usuguraiboshi, the instigator of the Black Autumn. I am your bane", he declared sinisterly whilst swiftly rising his free hand. The instant his words were absorbed by the still thick darkness, an orange-hued adorned with spiralling yellow patterns burst forth from his palm toward the Royal Guard suspended in mid-air above him. A chuckle and the faintest grin broke the frown that rested on Satō's lips for but a split second before the more prominent expression returned. He took the remark of being different in good faith, perhaps it meant nothing, but he took it well all the same. With their names handed out Satō was more than ready to draw the confrontation to the forefront, though his opponent had already made the opening move. "Kidō" he noted to himself. But just as the tendril of spiritual energy closed in, Satō reacted with lightning-like reflexes. His hand raised, braced by the other and a red orb had formed in his palm. . With nary a motion from the Shinigami, the orb launched from his palm to meet its similarly constructed cousin. The collision brought on an explosion caking up a cloud that obscured Satō from view. In the moment since he attacked, Satō had already drawn his next action. His fingers darted across the air, tracing a line of yellow light in the form of a triangle. emerged at the points and all fired, one right after the other, blowing through the smoke and straight towards the Shinigami-like creature below. Within a fraction of second the three triangular projectiles darted toward Usuguraiboshi and struck his midsection and shoulders, pushing him back before promptly immobilising him at the spot. Just as it seemed that Shingen's counterattack had succeeded, however, the Togabito's silhouette , the yellow Kidō spell dispersing a moment later. Immediately afterward there was sudden movement behind the Royal Guard. Zetsubō materialised behind him, his unusually long blade already slicing the air in a with the inevitability of a falling guillotine. The screeching of metal rang through out the area, Satō's Zanpakutō having formed a vertical defense against the oncoming attack. He had never been one to leave himself so directly open in a fight, especially against the most common spot. He'd expected this creature of black to be more unorthodox, more bizarre in his fighting style. Instead, he was more familiar than he should have been, which worried Satō but made the fight nonetheless easier to predict. "Zanjutsu." He said aloud. Without kicking up any noticeable motion, the man had lunged forward with insane speed his sword arm becoming almost impossible to trace as it moved. He didn't expect his opponent to fall this soon, oh no, but he needed to further gauge the reaction. A of his blade leaped forth, attempting to cut his foe to pieces. Rather than evade the onslaught or attempt to shield himself from its ferocity, Zetsubō countered by mirroring Shingen's own attack. The two blades began clashing dozens of times within each consecutive second, quickly stirring up a powerful gust of wind and a shower of sparks. Then, as the immense force of their struggle accumulated, the two opponents were eventually deflected backward by a small shockwave, and halted mid-air a moderate distance away from each other. "Yes...", muttered Usuguraiboshi as he was slowly lifting his Zanpakutō. He held its hilt in a firm two-handed grip and pointed its blade to the side. Suddenly, the darkness around him swirled like a dense cloud of smoke. His long coat fluttered and the blackness thickened, enveloping his entire body sans the bone-white mask. The air became cold, and the feeble shine of the moon turned dim. Rather than release his internal spiritual power, it seemed as if Zetsubō had become a miniature black hole, a bottomless abyss which warped the reality around him inward and began sucking everything inside. Then, the tempest of darkness dispersed violently; only two tendrils of pitch-black remained behind, swirling about Usuguraiboshi's raised Zanpakutō. After reaching the blade's tip, they were swiftly absorbed. "Despair, Kūgeki", he grumbled. Part 2 The blade glowed crimson and bent suddenly, sprouting a number of spikes from both edges before changing into a large, black scythe. Three blisters of varying size swelled at the base of its serrated blade, and then opened, revealing three blood-red eyes. A distinct, crimson hue outlined the black-clad man's figure and appeared to bleed out to his immediate surroundings. It was expanding unhurriedly, marking trees, ruins, corpses and the sky itself with ghastly tint. Zetsubō's coat started fluttering again, this time lazily and without any sound. His long hair moved as if there was a gentle breeze blowing from his side, even though there was none. His silhouette began flickering almost imperceptibly, and his features became blurry. "Prepare", uttered a voice which, while quiet, echoed through Shingen's mind. He paid little heed to the voice that ran through his mind, he remained focused, ready, to make his next move. Shūgetsu urged its master to release him just as this Zetsubō had, though Satō ignored that voice as well. He was a man of slow, plodding, moderation. He was not about to release his Zanpakutō when he did not feel it was his only way of reliably fighting back. Time would tell however. And time was passing. For a while Usuguraiboshi remained immobile, his eyeless gaze fixed at his opponent. In the meantime, his defiling influence seemed to spread further and pollute the world around him more and more over time, gradually turning everything, both ordinary and not, eerie and unreal. "Hesitation? Caution?", asked Zetsubō seemingly no-one in particular as he began pacing in mid-air. "Result stays the same." Having uttered those words, he promptly dissolved into the red-hued darkness. Suddenly, the world started spinning madly around Shingen, turn after turn, faster and faster, endless streaks of blood amongst the black of night. Then, a single figure emerged unexpectedly from this tempest of madness and plummeted toward the Royal Guard, the sound of a blade with too many edges cutting the air foretelling the impending doom. His eyes refused to focus on the details spiralling into madness around him for fear that he would be lost in the chaos that was this black-and-red world around him. His attention drew upwards however to what sounded like more than one blade coming down to meet him. He refused to move from his enemies path however, and he was also going back on his earlier plan. He waited, until it was no longer possible to hold off or change course and then he whispered. "Erase the flow, Shūgetsu." An upward flow of spiritual energy emerged at his feet, exploding into a massive pillar of light within moments. It was volatile, destructive, unlike most spiritual energy witnessed in a release. The black, shadowy shape falling at him with great speed was caught up in the sudden outburst. Immersed by its eruptive force, it was torn apart and evaporated in a matter of moments. "Good." Usuguraiboshi stood in the same place he had before the vicious swirling began, apparently motionless throughout all this time. He directed his single visible eye slit at his opponent's released blade and regarded it for a while. Then, he swiftly moved his nightmarish scythe to the side, single-handedly despite its size. Gaseous crimson streaks continued to leak from its shaft. Afterward, he lifted the scythe above his head and proceeded to spin it around its axis, round and round. Meanwhile, the horrific surroundings started rotating about the two combatants, with increasing velocity correlating to the movements of Zetsubō's Zanpakutō. Again and again. Suddenly, the dark silhouette leant and leapt forward. Three shadowy figures emerged from it and plunged toward the Royal Guard, each from a different direction and with different speed. As they were approaching him fast with the world spinning around them, the original halted abruptly and pointed the bottom of the scythe at Shingen. The large spike at its end burst forth like a bullet, connected with the Zanpakutō by what seemed to be a constantly elongating spinal cord. A flash of gold shimmered across Satō's blade for but a moment before the man moved. He gripped his sword in both hands, to make a single powerful swing in an arc in front of himself. A giant scar of spiritual energy leaped from the blade to cover that same arc, out of nowhere it was followed by hundreds of other scars that flew in every direction to cut at everything that could possibly be incoming. The three shadowy clones of Zetsubō were torn apart by the attack and dispersed into the darkness. Meanwhile, the Togabito himself remained at his position. His own attack clashed with the brunt of Shingen's technique, and their impact revealed it was more than a mere physical strike as streaks of smoke-like energy exploded in all directions during the collision. Having cancelled each other out, Usuguraiboshi's cord had been deflected back to him and its spike was quickly pulled into its usual place at the bottom of the scythe. There was no comment or expression of surprise. He slanted and spun his Zanpakutō with his left hand in front of him. Suddenly, there was a radial blur which emitted from the hellish scythe, covering everything with distinct haze. Time appeared to nearly stop, Zetsubō's movements slower and slower. Slow. It seemed as if seconds became minutes, and minutes hours. The scythe spun lazily, carving the crimson-hued blackness millimetre after millimetre. Usuguraiboshi's long hair and cloak, previously fluttering wildly, appeared to be suspended in the air, spread wide like demonic wings. His masked face was turning ever slower, in a perpetual yet inevitable move which would direct the gaping hole of its eye slit toward the Royal Guard. Then, the reality around the Shinigami started bending. The nightmarish world seemed to sail increasingly away, whereas Zetsubō, in spite of his sluggish movements, was rapidly closing distance, as if pulled toward his opponent by an invisible force. The serrated blade of his Zanpakutō reached its apex as he approached Shingen, and then began its deceptively slow descent toward the latter's head. Another shimmering wave of gold passed over Satō's Zanpakutō this time it appeared to plot across the length of the blade at a snail's pace, Satō waved his hand in front of his face, it too had slowed but he could feel the air around his limb before he could perceive it having reached it. His eyes drew back to his opponent, Satō remained unalarmed at the proximity of his opponent nor his speed which had now drawn to a perfect stillness. The nightmare-landscape, as far off in the distance as it was, had frozen. A cut opening on his cheek alerted Satō to how close he was to taking a more grevious wound. "It seems I could have timed things better." He mused to himself, his own motions remained slow to his view he noted while a thumb drew a trickle of blood from the small gash. He burst into the air with shunpo repeatedly, swinging his blade with every motion until he landed behind his opponent. Just in time for the effect of his Zanpakutō to wear off. Golden scythe-like crescents formed above Zetsubō, each dropping down like guillotine to the neck of an unwary victim. For a second Usuguraiboshi seemed to struggle in place, fighting with the speed-impending effect cast upon him. However, right before being struck by Shingen's attack he leapt forward abruptly, the golden arcs missing him by inches. Or not. The dark figure slided on his feet as he was turning around to face his opponent, his cloak fluttering wildly. When he raised his right hand a large cut in the sleeve could be seen, exposing the pale flesh of his forearm. It was visibly wounded; whilst appearing to be big and deep, the gash was pitch-black inside and did not bleed altogether. Then, he halted and straigthened up without a hurry. He grabbed his Zanpakutō with the injured arm and started undoing the belts strapping his black leathery robes, one after another. Suddenly, with one swift motion he took off the cloak and threw it aside. All that remained on his torso was a black undershirt, revealing his deathly pale arms with incredibly sinewy muscles, adorned with an intricate network of meandering scars and purple veins. Zetsubō moved the index finger of his left hand over the wound inflicted by Shingen. Afterward, a fresh scar joined the rest, becoming a part of the unnerving maze of wounds which had never healed completely. Only then he looked directly at the Royal Guard, and remained motionless for a short while. Subsequently, he raised his left hand and brushed aside the thick fringe of jet black hair which had been obscuring the right side of his mask. There was a row of six eye slits, arranged in a vertical manner. "Fear", he uttered gravely. All of a sudden a spray of blood gushed from Satō's cheek but stopped abruptly, replaced by a streak of ichor. A surge of pain struck him like a bolt of lightning as little white feelers began emerging from the widened wound, writhing. There was little remark from Satō save for a furrowing of his brow. Pain ran through him like electricity, even his self control could only withstand so much. His sword arm swayed forward lightly but stopped in the very next moment. A contemplated swing at whatever had emerged from his wound. He refrained, for now, unsure as to whether it would be the right move. For all he knew removing them could incite a further growth, more of them even. He would bear it until they tried to hamper him. His eyes dawned on his opponent, Satō had landed a hit. The gold blade that cut the flesh of his foe was still present, shrunken to fit the wound it had created, but its size mattered little, its presence was all that did. It was connected, to the others, shining brightly, embedded in the ground and air all around the two combatants as they were. Satō's arm raised to face Zetsubō. "Carriage of thunder, bridge of a spinning wheel." He started. The familiar shimmer returned to his blade for the third time, and everything froze with stillness. "On the wall of blue flame, inscribe a twin lotus. In the abyss of conflagration, wait at the far heavens. Hadō 88, ." Satō continued, speaking into the frozen air, his voice somehow still carrying on. What had been an outstretched finger became an open palm. The Shinigami's muscles tensed through his robes and lamellar plates as a mighty blue beam shot from his palm. Easily twice Satō's size, the beam roared across the open area straight towards its frozen target, sparks of energized spiritual energy burning off its edges all the while. Time returned to its normal speed, the beam only a scant meter or two away from its intended destination. Beads of sweat rained across Satō's visible skin, heavy, burdened breath escaping gritted teeth. The tempestuous wave of destructive energy seemed to consume Usuguraiboshi as it proceeded onward, carving a mark of devastation through the already ruined buildings before exploding violently far away. Its bright blue glow cast light on the gloomy surroundings, briefly extracting them from the dense darkness. However, they were soon immersed in it whole once again. The writhing feelers emerging from Shingen's wound vanished instantly. They left no trace of ever being there in the first place, save a smudge of blood and ichor on his cheek. The sharp pain was all but gone. Yet its source was not. Satō immediately sensed the uncanny presence of his enemy and turned around to see him. Zetsubō stood a medium distance away, suspended in mid-air. Holding his scythe in the left hand again, he appeared to closely examine his right arm. Little more than charred, still sizzling muscles and tendons remained on his palm and half of the right forearm, barely covering the bones beneath. Actually, in some places patches of now charcoal-coloured skeleton peeked from between the burnt flesh. Usuguraiboshi slowly clenched his right fist, and then opened it unhurriedly, as if checking whether it can still function despite the grevious injury. Suddenly, he looked at the winded Shingen. Then, Zetsubō faced the Royal Guard directly and assumed an intimidating, hunched pose. He raised his right hand and spread the charred fingers of his palm, as if reaching toward the opponent. Without a warning, Satō's own right palm began literally boiling. Large blisters covered the skin as it started to fall off in peels, every pain receptor howling in pain. The world swirled. With speed that left no time for any other reaction but an instinctual block, Zetsubō virtually smashed the blade of his Zanpakutō against Shingen's and pushed forward. Despite the severity of the burn, he held the scythe in a firm two-handed grip, seemingly unfazed, and struggled against Satō's equally impressive defence. Then, slanted and peeking in between the crossed blades, Usuguraiboshi brought his face near Shingen's, as close as possible. The gaping holes which were the numerous eye slits in his ivory white mask had appeared to suck Satō's very soul inside their bottomless blackness, but then they were lighted with a deep crimson glow. All seven of them. "What do you fear?", grumbled Zetsubō in a voice which could make grown men weep like children. Part 3 His reaction remained cold, the fact that his enemy was so close did not worry him, the fact that his arm seemed to be boiling did not so much as register more than a minor reaction, the fear tactics even less so. With some exertion the Shinigami was able to open the distance between himself and his opponent, pushing them apart by pressing enough force into the clashing blades to allow him to move back. The exertion further irritated his burning hand, his arm dropped to the side, his sword flowing along with it, carving a light scar on the ground below which promptly lit up with the same golden scars that had littered themselves around the nightmare-scape they found themselves in. Not to mention, the scar embdedded in his opponent's arm. Regaining a grip on his blade, Satō pierced the scar below. Simultaneously, the blade emerged from every other scar about the place, trying to pierce about in every direction. An impromptu death trap, though only one was close enough to hit its mark. "I don't think you have that which can make me fear, for that has already come to pass." Zetsubō became blurred in a rapid movement, briefly turning into an unrecognisable mass of pale white and pitch black before dissolving into the darkness around him. After his opponent's attack had been over, he suddenly reappeared some distance away, and Shingen was able to make several interesting observations within the subsequent instant. The severe wound and pain consuming his right hand were completely gone, and only an uneasy feeling of numbness remained in their stead. Furthermore, he noticed something falling to the ground during Usuguraiboshi's hasty evasive manouevre. Despite being unable to determine the object's nature due to it being immersed in the crimson-hued blackness, one quick glance at the Togabito was enough. Zetsubō's right arm had been cut off just below the elbow, removing the grievously wounded limb and the scar embedded in it. "I see", stated Usuguraiboshi in a barely audible whisper. "You're different after all... But so was ...", he added with a slight, yet chillingly meaningful emphasis on the past tense. Suddenly, a pressurised streak of ichor erupted from the stub of his right arm, quickly followed by a swelling, large black blister. Then, the bleb burst and four white, writhing feelers emerged from it in lieu of the cut off limb. "Yet you misunderstand...", he continued imperturbed, his voice becoming louder and raspier. "When facing Kūgeki in battle, it's never the question of "whether", but "when"." Afterward, still holding the nightmarish scythe in his left hand, he outstretched the arm with the weapon as if wanting the Royal Guard to look upon it. "Very few had faced it in combat and lived to tell the tale... And none of these individuals is alive today." Gaseous crimson streaks began leaking from the Zanpakutō again, progressively becoming more numerous and thicker. An initially quiet, piercing sound crossed the lower limit of hearing and turned louder as the foul aura started assuming various ghastly shapes, before eventually turning into a horrific mosaic of widened, screaming faces emitting a unison shrill howl. "Are you ready to join them... Or do you wish to struggle a bit more?", asked Zetsubō in a vaguely mocking tone. There was no time to answer. With the faint sound of Shunpo Usuguraiboshi immediately closed the distance between him and Satō, swirling madly around his own axis during the abrupt movement. To the last possible moment appearing willing to attack with the scythe's main, serrated blade, he turned it once more whilst swinging to strike. As such, it was the large spike on the weapon's pommel which darted toward the Royal Guard, with the speed and strength sufficient to punch a hole in the Shinigami's face. "How many of them..." The spiked pommel punctured the Shinigami's face, only for the wound to blow open like dispersed air, his body turned transparent, then disappeared entirely. "...Could claim to stand among the Royal Guard?" There was heavy pressure on the Togabitō's shoulder for a moment, it intensified for a second only to vanish a second later. The world behind Zetsubō was engulfed by a radiant ray of golden light and the piercing vibrations of shattering glass. A crescent scar had emerged from Satō's blade, aimed right at the neck of his opponent. Not content with the distance he was gaining, Satō changed his moment into a flat downward descent, tracing his blade through the air as he moved. A scar, many times larger than the one closing in on Zetsubō flew out as soon as the Shinigami's sandals touched the ground. Its size easily dwarfed the two men, entirely capable of erasing their forms within its bright form. It too chased after Zetsubō. The Togabito skilfully evaded the point-black attack, but as a result ended up in the way of the much larger strike. Well aware of that, he started muttering a spell whilst still on the move. "Bakudō #81, ." The powerful technique struck the translucent Kidō barrier with great impetus. The barrier withstood its might, but not without a few small cracks appearing on its surface before it dispersed into nothingness. Meanwhile, the ground around Shingen's feet cracked abruptly and several pairs of skeletal arms emerged from the scorched and blood-soaked soil, violently grabbing the Shinigami by his legs. "One", stated Zetsubō gravely as he raised his left arm and directed it at Shingen. Then, a circular, semi-transparent shield of celadon colour had been emitted from his palm before unleashing a barrage of in a cage-like formation. Muffled rattling made itself heard across the blood caked dirt, a single swish of his sword having removed most of the skeletal limbs that pinned him to the earth. A second swing immediately followed, removing those that attached from behind him. He spun into motion, launching himself into the air as the first of the green beams impacted around him. The resulting cloud of dirt cloaked his movement, but also his incoming threats. Piercing through the amassed dirt, Satō found himself face-to-face with one of the blasts. His Shunpō burst into action with him appearing several meters away and ahead, but a moment too late to avoid the blast, the explosions screeched out before his face began to burn and audibly sizzle. His momentum remained unaffected however. The Shinigami darted through the green hail, expertly dodging those that tried to impede the path between Zetsubō and himself. When that gap was closed, Satō emerged above the raining lights of energy, his right arm swinging his heaviest swing at the creature's head. Usuguraiboshi lifted it abruptly, and the seven eye slits in his ivory mask shone with little crimson lights. Shingen's blade smashed into the serrated edge of the scythe which had risen rapidly to intercept it. With a loud clang and a shower of sparks the two clashed violently, prompting Zetsubō to bend slightly under the immense pressure of his opponent's attack. However, his pale muscles swelled and the purple veins bulged out as he let out a guttural groan; stuck in-between the "teeth" sprouting from Kūgeki's main blade, Satō's sword was eventually deflected after a brief but intense struggle. Then, virtually within the same instant, Usuguraiboshi turned around swiftly, his left leg lifted to deliver a powerful roundhouse kick intended to crush the Royal Guard's ribcage. His muscles tensed, his free arm intercepting the incoming limb. There was an audible thunk as as the leg collided with Satō's forearm. The very next moment, Satō had gripped that same leg tight and drew his opponent into a tumultuous spin before releasing him to momentum filled descent towards the ground. Continuing to press on the offensive, the Shinigami gave chase using Shunpō to immediately close most of the distance between them. His sword shined brightly, before golden crescents appeared on all flanks encroaching on Zetsubō with fearsome speed. To the front, Satō loosed an orb of red light from his palm. " !" He yelled. Usuguraiboshi had landed heavily, cracking the ground beneath his feet in the process, but he was quick to resume a combat-ready pose. Seeing the omnidirectional barrage of attacks approaching, he decided on his next movement immediately. Wary of the Royal Guard's Shikai technique, he burst forth on a collission course with the incoming Hadō spell. When the golden crescents were cutting dirt and ground, he swiped the Shakkahō aside with the use of his Zanpakutō. Merely singed by the resulting explosion, he darted forward without losing any of his increasing momentum. Then, within the fraction of second it took him to approach Shingen, he rose the scythe high in preparation for a crushing vertical slash. The air hissed as its blade began its lightning-fast descent. The crescents that had been launched to intercept the Shinigami-like creature had missed their mark, only to collide against each other in the space behind him. Embedding themselves in the very air, merged together as a haphazard cross. Satō forged another crescent directly over his sword's trajectory, which had been tracing the flight path of Zetsubō's scythe. The serrated edge of the weapon vanished into the golden light, only for two of it to appear behind its wielder in an attempt to slice into him. Seemingly caught in yet another death trap, Zetsubō halted for a fraction of a second. Then, he was rapidly enveloped by a thick shroud of darkness and vanished in an instant. Hohō kept the Royal Guardsman afloat in the air, his feet perched on what seemed to be invisible grounding, giving the impression that he could walk on air rather than perform true flight. His stance appeared open, though he was wary of everything around him, the slightest sound, the faintest hint in change of atmosphere would trigger a reaction. He waited. Silence. The darkness around him thickened noticeably, but there was no trace of Zetsubō, even though his presence could still be felt. The mind-numbing, cold sensation of the Togabito's warped Reiatsu could be detected, but seemed dispersed, as if without a single source. "The time is over", uttered gravely a voice which resounded both in the nightmare-scape and within the Royal Guard's mind. "We'll meet again." Then, the crimson-hued blackness began receding, releasing the devastated battlefield from its embrace. Once it vanished completely, it was replaced by the navy blue of a breaking dawn. Usuguraiboshi's presence was gone. His eyes closed when he noticed the fading presence of his opponent all around him, with a clearer mind he tried to keep track of Zetsubō, but it was not to be so. All traces of the man's spiritual presence had been removed from the area, it was almost frightening how quickly such a large amount of power could just... vanish. But Satō sought not to dwell on the fact. His feet returned to the natural earth beneath his feet. Upon opening his eyes, he was immediately forced to reclose them until they adjusted to the light of the new day that was slowly sweeping the area. His sword sheathed, spiritual energy coiling out as the blade returned to its sealed state in the process. "It seems I'll be waiting for you." He remarked, doubtful his enemy could hear him, or that the wind could carry the message. He began the slow walk back to the glowing tower of light that once served as a beacon in the dark knight before. Part 4 Seireitei. Sixth Division Barracks. Dawn. Satō approached the gleaming surface of the enormous Kidō barrier and touched it softly. A single circular ripple spread from the spot he had touched, and a rectangular opening appeared, letting him in. He walked forward, surrounded by stillness and silence. Then, a tremendous Reiatsu manifested almost in front of him, as if attempting to halt him. He glanced to the side and noticed someone familiar leaning against a wall with arms folded across her chest, observing him attentively. A slender, youthful woman with piercing green eyes and waist-length, loose blond hair. She wore a traditional kimono adorned with flower motifs, and haori of the Royal Guard over it. "Where have you been?", asked Kimiko Kōtaku in a stern tone. "I decided to go for a walk", spoken vaguely, Satō walked past the younger looking woman before finding himself some place to sit. With a sigh he looked back to her with lightly lidded eyes. "I had a run in with one of our new friends while I was out, Zetsubō". "That explains what's happened to your face", she replied. "You know this was extremely risky", she added scoldingly, her intense stare fixed at Shingen. "I hear tell that our juniors use scars as marks of pride these days", musing over the cuts and burns that covered his head, he couldn't help but put on a short smile, it reminded him of his days before the Royal Guard, where being reckless and crazy was almost what it was all about, the cautious old man that he'd become still had some fight left in him. A nice though to mull over. "That is I, all risk and bravado", he was a man of slow and plodding caution, he rarely made a move without an inkling of the outcomes before him. A side effect of wielding a Zanpakutō with such an iron grip on the flow and processes of time. "Where are the others? I'll assume they showed more sense than I did tonight", he asked switching topics on a whim. "Indeed", replied Kōtaku. "We've been waiting for you. Hamasaki-san wants to explain the situation to officers of Gotei 13. You should listen too." She turned around and started going. "Oh, by the way, we've got some guests", she added casually on the move. "I suppose its time to play the role of gracious hosts then", he remarked. Though his thoughts were more on the meeting they were heading towards than their apparent guests. Katashi Hamasaki was good for filling in the blind spots of Satō's memory, spots currently occupied on regrets of ignorance and foolhardy in his youth. During the theoretical navel gazing, Satō looked down at a glance to finally take stock of what he had suffered in his battle with Zetsubō, aside from a few scratches and persperation. The edges of his sky blue yoroi was scorched and scraped while the Shihakushō below was in tatters. charred and torn fabric was visible all across the pitch black garment with the occassional discloured patch of dirt and grime. Oddly enough the floral pattern sash across his waist remained perfectly immaculate, untouched by the swirling chaos he had partaken in. "Now I know what you meant about risks", he half jokingly commented. Kimiko sighed in response. "Just follow me", she requested as she was walking away. Silence took over as Satō complied, following Kimiko to whatever locale contained those waiting for them. She led him to one of the local Division's training halls. Thanks to spacious room inside all of the Royal Guardsmen and remaining top Gotei 13 officers, including the recently injured Lieutenants, were able to assemble inside easily. Most of them were in the process of discussing various matters, but ceased when Kimiko and Satō arrived. "These are the guests I've mentioned", said Kōtaku. "Exiled Captains. They've decided to help us in spite of how the late treated them." The three aforementioned Shinigami approached the two Royal Guard members. They looked rather messy and unimposing at first, but their Zanpakutō and spiritual pressures signified otherwise. "Ikiryō Kuragari, pleased to meet you", introduced himself the black-haired man with a vertical scar on his face. He entered the room, his eyes making a visual sweep of every face in the room, coming to rest on the approaching Ikiryō, while his mind performed the same feat over the colourful array of spiritual presences, especially those remarked upon as having been exiled. Drawing back from his mental actions, he nodded to the man upon his introduction. "Satō Shingen", he replied. "Kurokawa Tadayoshi, it is an honour.", the other man said as he came forward to introduce himself, Satō replied with a small nod as the former Captain came to stand next to Ikiryō. A relatively tall red-headed woman stood beside Tadayoshi and looked upon the Royal Guardsman with visible curiosity. "It's not often that I get the chance to interact with so many of you", she stated. "Kaoru Shōki", she added with an odd smile. "Very well!", exclaimed Katashi Hamasaki in a jovial tone, immediately drawing attention of all the Shinigami present. "Now that we've got over with the introductions, let the old man tell you a short story about our monstrous adversary." The newcomers took their seats amongst others and turned to face the venerable member of the Royal Guard. He was a man of average height with nary a hair at the top of his head, yet with a medium-length beard of dark grey colour styled in several plaits. His face was covered with wrinkles, but there was some sharpness to it that made him look intimidating rather than old. His clothing consisted of a dark green garb and a trailing variant of the Royal Guard haori. "Most of you weren't even born yet when the Black Autumn came, or were too young and too far away to experience it personally. Or simply didn't care", he added and winked at Satō knowingly. "Anyhow, as you all know, more than a millenium ago the late -dono at last reorganised his Academy and assembled his disciples to form Gotei 13. Those were difficult times, however, and it barely resembled the Gotei of the present time. Few laws and restrictions existed, and even fewer were adhered to. The first Captains, Genryūsai-dono included, were more pack leaders than military commanders. Some of them were not afraid to impose their authority with the use of brute force. And from the very inception of the Gotei 13 there was one man who stood out among those violent enforcers: Zetsubō Usuguraiboshi of the Rukongai." Katashi paused for a short while, taking a quick glance at the listeners. He had smirked, satisfied, and proceeded to continue his story. "I was told he had been found by a platoon of Shinigami investigating cases of "inexplicable disappearances" in a high-numbered Rukongai district, whose name escapes my senile mind. Local inhabitants refused to move in any closer than half a spirit mile from his hut. Once found he did not resist, but his sheer demeanour prompted those Shinigami to constrain him. Oh, did I mention he was a child back then? Still, we desparately needed strong people, so no questions were asked about his past, for strength he had in abundance. I'm not aware of what had been happening to him for quite some time, but the next time I heard of him he was already an infamous warrior. People were spreading rumours that entire companies were retreating at his mere sight. He'd built up quite a fearsome reputation by the time Genryūsai-dono founded Gotei 13, and Zetsubō was appointed the founding Captain of its Third Division. That was the first time I saw him in person. He always wore that disturbing white mask, so I'd never got the chance to see his face. I remember all too well, however, that there was something off to his Reiatsu. He just stood there on the Captain meetings, utterly silent, and everyone else was constantly peeking at him. He walked, and everyone was getting out of his way. He gazed at you with those black holes instead of eyes, and you felt shivers on your back. He was a scary man. Uhm, I've almost forgotten to mention; nobody liked him. He was feared, but never respected. Many people were taking great effort not to interact with him any more than it was completely necessary. I suppose that being an outcast for so long took heavy toll on his already warped mind. Anyhow, in retrospect I should've noticed something was going to happen sooner or later, but I was too preoccupied with other things. Foolish me. And then it happened. A Captain, whose name you don't need to know, was to be promoted to the Royal Guard. For a reason I sadly don't know, that didn't appeal to Zetsubō. Did he covet that position himself, or was it enmity? Regardless, he slaughtered the Captain and disappeared for a while. I should've said "killed" or "defeated", but you too wouldn't have if you'd seen the aftermath. That event obviously caused quite a commotion, so the next hit was equally unexpected and severe when it came. Through some undisclosed means, pure fear factor perhaps, he rose his entire Division against the Soul Society. The Black Autumn came, and there was more blood than red leaves that season... Usuguraiboshi's men were killing everyone in some state of frenzy, his Lieutenant, the estranged grandson of Genryūsai-dono, ever at their lead. You'd think, "how could a single Division pose a serious threat to twelve?" Well, it did, and how it did! Two Captains perished to Zetsubō's might, and one was slain by the Lieutenant, Tōru Yōshanai. It took Genryūsai-dono's Bankai to stop the rapidly escalating bloodshed, and the Black Autumn ended just as abruptly as it had started." Hamasaki made another short break to clear his throat, and once again glanced at the faces of the other Shinigami. "Zetsubō, Lord Bane, was gone at last. Until recently, that is. He's back in full force, and whilst it's uncertain how, I need not explain why. He won't stop at anything. I've heard about his "officers", but they're little more than his hellhounds; he is the threat. Seek refuge in the light of the breaking dawn, for when the night comes after it, he will come as well." He let those grim words reverberate throughout the hall in the silence which followed his speech. Before the tense silence had time to settle there was an abrupt resounding of clapping hands made its way about the room. Emanating from the oddball from her own little corner of the room. Sitting in an inverse proportion to everyone else was none other than Duo Wen Tian somehow sitting perfectly on her own head, she observed the world from her upside down view, clapping away to a tale, she considered, well told. She was a petite woman with a tight figure wearing a thick haori with sleeves that could cover her arms three times over, in her current position the haori drooped down allowing a clear view of her backless and sleeveless shihakushō. "You always did tell the best stories, gramps", pressing the ground with her hands, the oddball Royal Guard lifted herself into a handstand before uprighting herself with a rather acrobatic flip. "So, when do we kick his butt?" Hamasaki stroked his beard with solemnity, his face expressing exaggerated pensiveness. "Once the twilight comes, I presume", he replied eventually. "Dayum, man, you've scared the shiz outta me again", complained Ayumu Nakahara. "How are supposed to fight that creep?" "With indomitable will and the iron of our swords...", Katashi began chanting. "Enough of this", interrupted him Kimiko. "We've got more important things to do." Katashi's face stretched in a histrionic expression of sadness. "You always spoil the fun, Kōtaku-chan. You act older than I do." "Because I am", she retorted in a succint manner. "Anyway, Captain Ayako Fukushima-san, have you come to terms with your new appointment?" The commander of the Eighth Division stood up, her face stiff with a grimace of exasperation. "I still think this happens too soon", she said. "But I well understand the current situation demands such solutions. I'll be the acting Captain-Commander for the time being, but I'm going to resign the moment we resolve this crisis." Kimiko nodded slowly in response. "Fair enough. Any ordinances?" "Yes. I hereby reinstate Ikiryō Kuragari-san and Kurokawa Tadayoshi-san as the Captains of their respective former units." "Uh... I didn't expect that. Thank you", replied Kuragari with genuine shock. "Thanks, Fukushima-san. I knew you're reasonable", added Kurokawa. "I'm not sure about Kaoru Shōki-san, though", mused Ayako. "Uhm, I beg your pardon, Fukushima-sama", said Akira Tanaka shyly, standing up and bowing deep in the meantime. "I think I'm unworthy of my position, so..." "No, no, no", interruped him Kaoru. "You've earned it. I don't need an official post right now, Fukushima-san. Just allow me to access all of my former possessions and I'll help you anyway." "Access granted. We should regroup and rest now", stated Ayako, clearly tired. "The enemy'll most likely strike again this night, and this time we will be prepared for them. You may disperse." Most of the remaining Captains and Lieutenants left the room shortly. However, all five members of the Royal Guard and the freshly-appointed Captain-Commander remained in the training hall, along with the former exiles and Lieutenant Manihōrudo. There were still many things to discuss. Part 5 Hell. Fifth Circle. A barren, volcanic landscape with an intricate network of lava rivers and numerous rock pillars protruding from the ashen plain. Twisted trees of aged bone jutted toward the thick shroud of black clouds, and a thunderous staccato accompanied the perpetual barrage of lightning. On the top of one of the rock formations there stood a single man, and a row of five cloaked individuals a few metres behind him. From that observation point they were looking at the masses of dark figures assembled on the fiery lowland below. "Gaze upon this nightmarish realm", declared Zetsubō in a low, ominous tone whilst making a broad gesture with his tentacle-hand. "After decades, centuries, millennia of perdition, we will at last escape the eternal torment. We have suffered in our lives, and suffered in death. But no more. Today the victims will become the punishers, and our punishers our victims." The legions of Sinners below responded with a fervent uproar, waving their hands, tentacles and talons with animalistic ferocity. "Today, we unchain our shackles and reach out toward the sky." The hideous cacophony became even louder. "Today, we bring Hell to the Soul Society." Suddenly, another cloaked figure had materialised beside Usuguraiboshi and then stepped forward, drawing the attention of the Togabito with its presence. "Brothers in anguish!", exclaimed the individual. "Rejoice, for you are free!" Then, the figure lifted both of its hands and scarlet surges of electricity discharged from its palms. The torrential lightning swiftly engulfed the entire army of Togabito, and within several seconds the black chains constraining them were shattered into dust. "Go now, and exact your revenge!" The figure lifted its right hand, and the dark clouds above it dispersed abruptly, forming a large, swirling opening. Thousands of shadowy beings plunged into the air and toward the hole. End of Chapter Category:Roleplay